


Moonshine

by inoubliable



Series: Skin&Earth [9]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Birthday Presents, Fluff, Foreshadowing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Moonshine, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inoubliable/pseuds/inoubliable
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is almost eighteen years old. Richie gives him a birthday present.--“Happy birthday,” he whispers.“It’s not my birthday yet,” Eddie whispers back.“Close enough,” Richie says, and reaches out, pulling Eddie across the center console for a kiss. Richie’s mouth burns against his, and the ring sits heavily on his finger, two twin points of sensation that make his heart feel like it’s too full, like it wouldn’t take much more to burst it clean open.





	Moonshine

**Author's Note:**

> "Moonshine, this is my time.  
> Sun goes down and I come alive.  
> Midnight sun in my eyes.  
> Stars are blazing, I feel amazing."  
> -[Moonshine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqmIhShgTj8), Lights

Eddie Kaspbrak is ten minutes away from being eighteen.

The little clock on Richie’s dashboard says _11:50_ , but it feels much later than that. They’re somewhere just on the edge of town, pulled off onto an access road, and with the headlights off and the windows down, it’s almost like they fit into the pitch dark wilderness. There is no noise, aside from the wind rustling the trees and the occasional hoot of an owl. There is no light, except for the way the moon gives everything a strange surreal glow.

The clock clicks over to _11:51_.

It feels a little bit like New Years Eve, waiting for the stroke of midnight. Eddie, personally, finds it ridiculous – he wasn’t even really born until 3:48 AM anyway – but Richie insists.

They both know by now that Eddie won’t deny Richie anything.

Richie is surprisingly silent. Contemplative, almost. He’s close enough to touch, but he looks a million miles away. He gets like this, sometimes. Ever since The Talk. Ever since they both realized that they have futures that don’t quite match up just right. Richie and Eddie will always be RichieandEddie, but they’re going to be apart in a way they never have before when Eddie leaves for college, and that seems to be all Richie thinks about these days.

Maybe Richie is staring at the clock because he doesn’t want to miss midnight. Maybe Richie is figuring out how many minutes he has left until Eddie leaves. It’s hard to tell what’s on Richie’s mind when he’s not talking. Eddie has never really had to pry thoughts out of him before. He’s much more used to begging Richie to _shut up_.

_11:52._

Richie comes to life with such a sharp inhale that Eddie jumps. “I got you a present,” he says, like he just remembered. Eddie thinks it’s more likely that he finally plucked up the courage to mention it. Richie is notoriously shy about gift-giving. Eddie remembers giving him a friendship bracelet in fourth grade, and his lip had gone a little wobbly and his eyes had gone a little glassy and he had slipped his wrist into it and never taken it off. He wears it to this day. It’s there, on his thin wrist, dingy and frayed, fitting much more snugly than it used to. He can’t slide it up to his elbow anymore, but that’s okay. Eddie likes that he’s grown into it.

He can’t help but wonder if, one day, it won’t fit anymore.

Eddie realizes he hasn’t said anything. “What’s the present?”

“It’s a two-parter,” Richie tells him, fumbling in the back for something. There’s a clink, and a little sloshing noise, and then Richie is proudly presenting him with a tiny mason jar, full of liquid, clear all the way through. Eddie holds it up and peers through it, then shakes it a little. The wet sound it makes against the glass sides is pretty satisfying.

_11:53._

“What is it?” he asks.

Richie cracks a grin, then reaches over and cracks the lid. It pops open with a loud noise, and Eddie jumps a little, but Richie’s hand steadies him, keeps the liquid from sloshing over.

It smells so strongly of rubbing alcohol that Eddie is sure Richie is making a joke.

“Real funny, Rich,” Eddie says, deadpan. “Did you get me band-aids, too?”

“What? No.” Richie shakes his head. His smile is infectious. “It’s moonshine.”

Eddie doesn’t know what that is, and maybe it shows on his face, because Richie takes the little jar from him and raises it to his lips. He takes a sip and it must burn, because he hisses through his teeth, the same way he always does when he drinks the bourbon he steals from his mother.

“Don’t know why they call it that, though,” he croaks, swishing it around the jar contemplatively. “Moonshine makes it sound kind of cool, not like it’s going to strip your taste buds.”

There’s a little wet sheen on his lips, remnants of the alcohol, and it catches the light from outside. The moonlight makes him gleam kind of silver, and Eddie gets it. Moonshine is a great name, he thinks, a little dizzily.

_11:54._

Richie passes him the jar and he accepts it but doesn’t take a drink. He peers inside again, trying to figure out why this is how Richie decided to usher him into being eighteen. Eddie’s not spoiled, and he certainly doesn’t want Richie spending what little money he has on him, but it’s still a strange gift.

There’s a little shadow at the bottom of the jar, distorted by the liquid. Richie notices Eddie noticing it, and he goes a little tense.

“I thought it would be kind of funny,” he says immediately, in a rush, not quite looking at Eddie anymore, no longer smiling. “You know, if you had to drink all of this to get to it, you’d be too drunk to tell me I’m an idiot. Or something.” He scratches his face, clearly uncomfortable. “Plus, that stuff is, like, 100 proof, so it’s really sanitized.”

Eddie can’t tell what _it_ is. He considers dumping the alcohol out, but that seems ungrateful, and honestly, Richie could probably use a few more sips of it, considering the way his knee is jolting, up and down, up and down, a sudden frantic rhythm.

_11:55._

For the first time, Eddie is grateful for Richie’s messy car. There’s a straw stuck in the center console, still in its wrapper. He tears off the paper and sinks it into the drink.

“Didn’t know you were such a dainty princess, can’t even put your lips on the glass—” But Richie knows what he’s doing, and he looks both like he wants to watch and like he wants to run away.

It takes Eddie a long time ( _11:56, 11:57_ ) to hook the shadow to the end of the straw. It’s some kind of circle, he discovers, because the straw goes clean through and he can sort of drag it up the side. He’s so pleased and proud of himself for managing it that he almost doesn’t process what he’s holding when he fishes it out.

It’s a ring.

Eddie very nearly drops it back into the jar.

There’s a long, heavy moment of silence.

_11:58._

“You asking me to marry you, Tozier?” He’s trying to make a joke, but it falls kind of flat. His voice sounds a little wet.

“What? No.” Richie seems to realize all at once what this looks like, because he slaps on the dome lights so Eddie can see the ring better. If it’s an engagement ring, it’s not a very traditional one. It’s some kind of black metal, and there’s a tiny silver design set into it, curving through it without any real pattern. It reminds Eddie of Richie’s wildly curly hair, of the way it never seems to fall the same way twice.

“Where’d you get it?” he asks, a little breathlessly.

“You’re not supposed to ask questions like that about presents,” Richie chides, which means he either stole it or spent way too much of his money on it. Eddie slips it onto his ring finger. It’s a little loose, so he slides it onto his middle finger instead, where it sits perfectly. He flips Richie the bird to show it off and Richie gives a laugh that sounds dangerously shaky.

_11:59._

“Happy birthday,” he whispers.

“It’s not my birthday yet,” Eddie whispers back.

“Close enough,” Richie says, and reaches out, pulling Eddie across the center console for a kiss. Richie’s mouth burns against his, and the ring sits heavily on his finger, two twin points of sensation that make his heart feel like it’s too full, like it wouldn’t take much more to burst it clean open.

Richie pulls away after a moment, and this time his mouth is wet from Eddie’s spit. Eddie is struck once again by how good he looks in the moonlight. There is something viciously beautiful about Richie Tozier in the dark. His face is composed of shadows and sharp angles, and his eyes glitter black, two huge dark jewels behind his glasses. “Would you, though? If I asked you?” he asks, voice not much more than a whisper.

Eddie knows what he means, but he wants to hear it. “Would I what?”

There’s no hesitation in the way Richie says, “Would you marry me?”

Eddie doesn’t need to think about it, either. “I will,” he promises, pushing in for another kiss, and then another, like he can’t get enough, like if he isn’t touching Richie, all of this might disappear. “I will. Eventually.”

It’s midnight, then, and Eddie is officially eighteen. Officially an adult. He could marry Richie that day, if he wanted to, and no one could tell him no.

But he wants to do it right. He wants to make it last.

They’re young. They’re in love. They have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I really fucked y'all up with that foreshadowing tag last time, didn't I? Shoutout to my favorite comment by [sometimenever](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shipmateee/pseuds/sometimenever):  
> "you: foreshadowing  
> me: *downs twelve shots in succession*"
> 
> Same, girl. Same.
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr.](http://namingtheruins.tumblr.com)


End file.
